What Now?

… after the last revision

I’ve poured my energy and my passion into a memoir manuscript for the past two years—Subject to Change: What Teaching Teen Moms Taught Me. Some days, words tripped over themselves to beat other perfectly precise verbiage onto the laptop screen. Other days, words had to be forcibly pried from the recesses of memory or Broca’s area of the brain. No matter how fluently the words flowed, no matter how elegant (or inelegant) the prose, I worked. Five or six days a week, around three hours a day, plus the few odd hours to finish up a chapter or scene.

I’m enthusiastic about the memoir’s content and what it has to say about being willing to take risks at any age to learn what you need to become better at what you do. About the risks faced by teen moms and their children if they don’t get an adequate education. About how society and the educational system largely ignore the issues, even though they affect all of us.

My husband generously drew charming illustrations for each chapter that add visual perspective to the narrative. I published a couple of essays related to the book and posted several short pieces on Substack about my teaching career. Two professional editors provided content editing, copy and line editing, and proofreading. The manuscript is as good as it can be.

What now?

I’ve submitted to a couple dozen agents and even more independent publishers over the last six months, including three more this week who just opened reading windows. How long do I wait for publication of a book that I feel is relevant now? Teen pregnancy rates had been steadily declining since the 90s, but still too high. With the recent Dobbs decision, there are signs those rates are ticking up again. In Texas, where I live, the rate has risen for the first time in decades.

Public schools lose qualified teachers at alarming rates and rely on alternatively certified teachers to fill vacancies. The crisis is mostly due to funding cuts and ludicrous expectations, heaped over the top of lofty state requirements that are already optimistic. Degree programs for educators prepare students for ideal classrooms, using sometimes helpful innovative strategies. Among cooperative students. With supportive administrations. Without undue legislative interference. Even well-trained novice teachers have no inkling what will be required of them. I know I didn’t.

I had the distinct benefit of teaching on a small campus in a large Oklahoma school district with only about fifty pregnant or parenting girls at any given time. I never had a class with more than ten or twelve students, and frequently taught classes of four or fewer. I’d never have survived the deep end of public high school science classes!

Our campus was more than a mile from the huge district high school—out of sight, and out of mind. Alas, it was one of the few remaining academic programs in the US designed specifically for teen moms and their children. This one, along with most similar schools have been shuttered in recent years, just when the teen pregnancy rates have begun to rise again.

The issues addressed in my memoir are especially timely and relevant, but there seems to be no agent or publisher interest. I can self-publish, which entails a steep learning curve. I’m not afraid of a learning curve. Not after learning, at fifty-five, to teach science to pregnant teenagers. However, it leaves me solely responsible for what comes after, glitches and all. A traditional publisher would provide validation and at least some marketing and distribution support.

More importantly, I’m eager to have discussions with people who are intrigued by the career risks I took in signing up to teach teenagers, or those who have a stake in educating young people. That won’t happen until the book is in the hands of readers who care about those issues. I was old-ish when I began teaching, I’m undisputably old now at 72. The clock ticking above my writing desk is unforgiving—the hands go only one direction.

Where do I go from here? How do I proceed and how long do I wait? These questions disrupt my early morning sleep cycle. My husband and I embark on a dream vacation next week in Canada and I hope to give my quandary no thought until we return. Afterwards, though, I expect to devote myself to whatever’s necessary to get my story into readers’ hands so the conversations can begin.

Wise words are always appreciated!